


When the sun calls us deeper inside

by datetheplants



Series: However we know [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentions of Death, Modern AU, Modern Newsies, Newsies - Freeform, Other, Reincarnation, newsies au, working on ralbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 20:45:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16353998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datetheplants/pseuds/datetheplants
Summary: Some days he longed for something. Or was it someone? Or was it someplace? There are moments when he’d think that maybe it had something to do with why he would wake up crying and hurting in the middle of the night. He’d try to remember what he dreamed of but his fingers would just grasp at air. All he could recall was the feeling of being so alone and angry. It tore at him.





	When the sun calls us deeper inside

People always told him that he smiled too much. He liked to pull them in for hugs. He was there when Elmer called him in the middle of the night crying. He was the one who Jack relied on to drive Crutchie to the clinic when he couldn’t. He let Anthony hang off of him like a koala when he would whine about his essays. He was the one who brought Sean Conlon food that one time he didn’t leave the library all day and JoJo was sure he was going to be soaked. He wasn’t.

JoJo didn’t want anyone to feel alone.

He jerked awake and realized he was gasping. His face was wet and JoJo curled in on himself. Something inside him was hurting. He could feel it. It was aching and he didn’t know why. It was there almost every night. It was there when he would stay awake after wiping his tears away. It was there until it wasn’t.

Some days he longed for something. Or was it someone? Or was it someplace? There are moments when he’d think that maybe it had something to do with why he would wake up crying and hurting in the middle of the night. He’d try to remember what he dreamed of but his fingers would just grasp at air. All he could recall was the feeling of being so alone and angry. It tore at him.

Some days he wanted to tell someone. He’d meet up with Albert and Anthony at their apartment and have their usual movie marathons. Anthony would fall asleep halfway through with his body draped across JoJo’s. Albert would turn to him and ask if he was okay. Maybe he knew something was off with him. Maybe he could see the bags under his eyes when he was not smiling so wide.

Those were the moments when JoJo just wanted to hold on to Anthony and tell Albert the growing ache inside him. He wanted to.

He didn’t.

It wasn’t until he called Albert on a Friday morning after he found out that his classes were cancelled. It took a while before the other line picked up.

"Hey, Al,” he greeted. “I’m free today and I was wondering if you and Tony are up to go to the movies? I was going to ask Jack and Davey too.”

There was scuffling from the other line and JoJo heard someone coughing.

“You okay, Albo?” he asked, worry already building inside him.

He heard more scuffling until Albert finally answered.

“Not feeling well, Jo. Have to pass. Head hurts. Can’t…”

He coughed again and it sounded bad.

“Can’t get out of bed.”

JoJo was already up on his feet, grabbing his keys and putting on his jacket. He was already out of his dorm when Albert burst into a coughing fit once more.

“I’m coming over,” he said.

There was groaning from the other line and he could hear words such as ‘don’t’, ‘sick’, ‘away’. He was pretty sure Albert was telling him not to come because he’ll get him sick. He didn’t care. Crutchie called him immortal many times because he rarely got a cold.

He got to Anthony and Albert’s apartment in 20 minutes, carrying a bag of noodles and cans of soup. He fished out the key the two has given him in case of emergencies and let himself inside. He would have thought that nobody was home if he didn’t hear retching sounds coming from the bathroom.

Albert was on the floor, bent over the toilet. He threw up again just as JoJo kneeled down next to him.

“Told you not to come,” mumbled Albert.

JoJo only rubbed his back and waited for Albert to finish. He helped him and carried his weight back to the bedroom. JoJo frowned at how hot Albert’s skin felt against his.

“You’re burning up,” he said.

Albert curled in against his pillows.

“I’m dying, JoJo.”

And it was just a joke because that was Albert. Even when he was sick, he’d clap back or say something funny. It should be funny. But it wasn’t.

JoJo could feel his chest constricting. He felt like he was suddenly carved out of his body in one swift motion. His hands shook as they grasped at the bed sheets and he could feel it again. The same ache from the many nights he lay awake on his bed, scared to go back to sleep. It was there again.

“I’m going to get you some water,” he managed to choke out before he strode out of the room.

It wasn’t until he was sitting next to a drowsy Albert after two hours that he placed a hand on his hair and threaded his fingers through the strands. It felt familiar.

“You okay, Jo?” mumbled Albert.

_"I’m dying, JoJo.”_

_"I’m dying, JoJo.”_

_“I’m dying, JoJo.”_

No, he wasn’t. He really wasn’t.

_"You’s gonna’ be okay, Albie. I got you.”_

Did he say that two hours ago?

_"We’s gonna be back to our feet by morning.”_

_“I’m dying, JoJo.”_

It kept ringing in his head over and over again.

"Hey, Jo,” croaked out Albert.

Albert held on to the hand that was in his hair. JoJo looked down at him.

“I’m gonna’ be okay,” he muttered. “Just a fever.”

He nodded.

"You okay, Jo?” Albert repeated, his thumb running over JoJo’s knuckles.

It took a moment. Maybe it took almost forever that he expected Albert to fall asleep right then and there, tired of waiting for his answer. But he could feel the body pressed against his legs. He could feel Albert’s warm hand in his.

“Do you…” he began. “I-I mean… have you ever felt like… something was taken away from you? A-And it’s just… it calls out for you everyday and you’re angry that you couldn’t do anything?”

There was silence. It stretched on.

 “Yeah.”

That day, JoJo stayed with him. Anthony came home later in the evening and fussed over their sick friend. Albert flipped him off several times. It was like every other time they hung out. It was like everything was normal.

Albert was sick for two more days before he was back on his feet again. He came by JoJo’s dorm, his hat sitting backwards on his head and a warm smile on his face.

“Thanks, Jo,” he said. “For taking care of me. Tony would have been a pain in the ass and _he’s_ not the one who is sick.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” chuckled JoJo.

“That drama queen already knows!”

Albert had hugged him before he left. It was just another ‘thank you’ and a habit. Everyone hugged each other but Albert had held on for a little bit longer and Jojo found he wasn’t exactly pulling away.

“It’s gonna be okay, JoJo,” said Albert.

It really wasn’t until JoJo jerked awake again from his sleep. No, he didn’t wake up from another bad dream. His phone was ringing on his nightstand. He rubbed at his eyes and fumbled across the bed. Jack was calling him. He picked up and let his head fall on his pillow.

“What?” he groaned out.

“Tonio’s in the hospital,” came Jack’s reply.

It took a few seconds before it finally sunk in. JoJo sat up and threw off his covers.

“Why?” he asked.

“Got into a fight,” answered Jack. “He was beaten up pretty badly, JoJo.”

He scrambled to get into a shirt and almost ripped his jacket from the hook.

“I’m coming,” he said.

He heard people talking from the other line.

“Are you sure, Jo?” asked Jack.

“Yes.”

He was in the hospital in just a matter of minutes. Albert had just rounded off a corner, carrying bags of snack when he saw JoJo.

“How is he?” he asked.

“Idiot already wants to go back to the bar and find the guy who beat him up,” answered Albert as they walked.

“How did he get into the fight?”

“You know him, JoJo. Half of what he says are stupid things.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“He already knows.”

And he knows that Albert is trying to make it light for him. He can see it and he could feel dread pooling inside him. He told himself that Anthony was safe. He’s alive.

Jack was in the room when they arrived and JoJo almost reeled back when he saw Anthony on the bed. He has seen him bruised because of all the stupid stunts he pulled. He has seen the picture of him with a black eye because he stood up against a bully in high school. He has seen him with a bruised lip because he fell down hard. JoJo has not seen him beaten up so badly that he internally winced when Anthony tried to grin at him. He knew it hurt.

"You’re an idiot, Tony,” he said.

“You should see the other guy,” said Anthony.

“I can’t because you didn’t put him in a hospital.”

“Shut up.”

They sat around him, careful to not make him uncomfortable or making him laugh too much because it hurt. He whined and poked fun at them. He flipped them off a couple of times with his good hand. Soon, Jack had to leave to meet up with Crutchie. Albert left to go to the cafeteria.

It was just JoJo and Anthony.

“Are you really mad at me, JoJo?” asked Anthony.

JoJo frowned. “He could have had friends, Tony. You would have been in a worse situation.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“You could have been killed, Race!”

JoJo was rarely angry, everyone knew that. He was the one who smiled too much. He was the one who gave out many hugs as he could. He was the one who tried to be there for everyone because he didn’t want any of his friends to be alone. Anthony was quiet, eyebrows furrowed. JoJo sighed and looked away.

“Race?” repeated Anthony.

He didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t even know where it came from or how it came to his mind. He didn’t know what he said and yet it rolled off his tongue like he had said it many times before.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It just slipped out.”

And Anthony smiled at him, as softly as he could. He held out his good hand to JoJo and he took it gently. Maybe he knew something too.

“I’m sorry, JoJo,” he said.

It wasn’t until he was back in his bed again, exhausted from his day. It wasn’t until he closed his eyes and dreamed once more that he remembered.

Hundreds, maybe thousands of fists up in the air.

Shouts of joy.

Shouts of anger.

Tight hugs.

There were hot days when they would lounge by the port, playing cards and tackling each other. They were just boys, too young to worry about what is to come. They were just boys who had to grow up too quickly.

There were cold nights when not one of them could leave the house, or even the bed. Winter took so much from them. The world took so many valuable things from them.

JoJo had clung on to a scared Albert. He was going to be okay until he didn’t get a chance to be. He was gone before morning came.

_"I’m dying, JoJo,” he had whispered._

JoJo had clung on to a scared Race. He bled out on the pavement as JoJo called for help. He was gone just as the sun was rising.

_"I’m sorry, JoJo,” he had cried._

JoJo had curled in on himself on the dirty ground. He was gasping for air. His chest hurt so badly. There were explosions all around him. There were bodies falling. There were men shouting. He was scared. He was angry. The world had taken so much from them.

He was gone, alone, after morning came.

He woke up that night and he laid awake in his bed for hours. He watched as his room was slowly filled with light. He counted his every breath until he felt himself slipping away from reality again. This time, he slept dreaming of warm summers spent with a family from a long time ago.


End file.
